


Jane and Tarzan, Scene 5

by jro512



Series: Jane and Tarzan (Disney 1999) [5]
Category: Tarzan (1999)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jro512/pseuds/jro512
Summary: meet the parents





	Jane and Tarzan, Scene 5

“I’ve never seen so many gorillas in my life, daddy!” Jane dashes ahead of Tarzan into the arena of greenery past the border of sand and shore grass. It reminds her of the Coliseum from her beloved books: layers and levels of gorillas, some keeping to the tiers of stout branches just overhead, some rushing forward to welcome her, some peeking shyly from behind foliage and their mothers’ legs.

Porter’s mouth hangs ajar. He brings one palm to his forehead as if checking for fever. Following his daughter and her ape-man from the shore, he’d been wrapped into the group by a few excited youngsters, babbling and hooting in excitement after Jane made her announcement to the troop. “Why, there must be 40 or 50 of them!”

_Yeah, even the neighbors came by to gawk,_ Terk chuckles, knuckling Tarzan in the ribs. _Get a load a’ cousin Kiy over there, walking on two legs like she invented it._

Tarzan knuckles Terk right back, atop her head, tussling the hair over her eyes. She scoots away and straightens it with a sideways look at Tarzan, then heads toward Kiy with a mischievous eye.

Tarzan gazes at Jane, his heart and his smile positively glowing. Her yellow dress poofs in the back – what was it… a bustle? – and a sudden image of taking the silly thing off and tossing it away crosses his mind. The curve of her hip is much more appealing than the lumps of fabric. Wisps of hair flutter against her cheekbone as she turns to glance back at him for an instant before being overwhelmed again by half a dozen curious faces.

The apes surround her cautiously, sniffing and muttering. Kala chatters amongst them at Jane’s side. A bit of his heart, even in this joyful moment, grieves for Kerchack and longs that he could be here welcome Jane too. But the day is bright and many introductions are in order.

~\~|~/~

 

Despite having jumped ship – rowboat, really – Porter thinks better of it and calls for their possessions to be brought back to shore and camp restored. The captain is sent off with an empty ship and a “toodle-oo.”

The shadows grow longer as camp is reestablished. Tantor and Tarzan assist with setting up a few of the heavier camp apparatuses, and the place is nearly back to its previous state of organized disarray. Minus quite a few broken dishes, of course, but Terk helps stuff some ripped pages back into their books under Jane’s stern eye. She checks her pocket from time to time, patting the locket safe within.

As the hustle and bustle dies down, and Porter all but passes out in his shaded hammock, Tarzan approaches his love with a particular gleam in his eye.

“Jane, I want to show you something.” He holds out a hand.

Jane nods and places her hand in his. “What is it?”

“Come with me.”

Tarzan kneels, and Jane shoots upward from his knee to the branch overhead. She’s quite proficient now, having spent many dreamy, humid hours following Tarzan’s guidance – with Terk below to catch her when she slipped – through the pathways of the trees. Of course, Terk couldn’t always keep up, and from time to time Jane and Tarzan had to pause and wait for her to catch up, grinning secretly between themselves, pretending not to hear her exhortations and hoots while stealing kisses under the wide blue sky. So, with an ever easier grip, a quicker rebound, and sharper eyes, she has learned some of Tarzan’s regular trails about the treetops.

But tonight, as Tarzan joins her on the limb, he hoists her onto his back. He has a place in mind he’s shared with no one since Kala first brought him there.

As they alight before a narrow hanging bridge, Jane gazes across and beyond, her eye following a series of structures climbing a lone, enormous tree. Past a lookout tower of sorts, above a deck canopied by torn yellow canvas, up a wide staircase hewn into the thick bark, amongst the limbs of the huge tree lie planks of wood from the belly of a ship, overturned and restructured into a house. She spots ladders and bridges leading from place to place amongst the varying elevations. Despite its state of disrepair, it is obviously a human-built structure. She glances questioningly back at Tarzan.

“What is this place?”

He only answers, “Follow me.”

As they ascend, Jane notices how the jungle air has warped slats of wood over time, how the sea air has eaten away at bits of rope and metal. When they reach the door of the vaulted wooden house, Tarzan pushes it open and gives a little sideways nod, inviting Jane to step inside.

Jane’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the relative darkness within the structure. Slowly, she begins to recognize familiar structures – an overturned chair, a chest of drawers sitting askew from missing a leg, a straw hat hanging on a peg, papers strewn across the floor. Reigning over all is the greenery gradually swallowing it all up. Jane takes a step into the structure, and another.

“Was this… your home?”

“No.” Tarzan steps past her and picks up an object from the floor. “Theirs.”

He hands Jane the object – a picture frame. The glass over the photograph within is broken and shards are missing, but the picture beneath is clear to Jane’s eyes. A baby rests in a young woman’s arms. Behind her stands a tall man with deep set eyes. Eyes, Jane recognizes, in which one might easily become lost… soulful and full of wonder. The couple wear solemn expressions, but stand intimately close, as if protecting one another. And their infant son.

“Tarzan, this is your mother and father.” Jane’s voice is low, reverent.

Tarzan nods. “Sabor killed them. Kala find me. Kala is my mother now.” He places a hand over his heart and feels the beat beneath his palm. “Tarzan heart, Kala heart… same.”

Jane places her hand over Tarzan’s. “Tarzan has a good heart,” she declares, “and so must Kala.”

Tarzan wraps her hand in his. He glances down at the photograph. “These people… my parents… I feel their heart is good too.” He touches the man’s chest, then the woman’s. “I can’t feel it, but…”

“I understand perfectly.” Jane opens the locket hanging from a slender chain around her neck.

Tarzan gazes at the unfamiliar face in the tiny photograph opposite Jane’s, comparing the two. “This is your mother?”

“Yes,” Jane sighs. “She died when I was quite young.” She closes the locket and studies the man and the woman in the yellowed photograph again. “Daddy would have loved to meet them.” She kisses Tarzan’s cheek.

The two exist together in silence, drawing closer to one another as the moments pass, in time coming to resemble the photograph they hold between them, the memory it represents almost tangible, yet so untouchable.


End file.
